In Another Life
by k123
Summary: 1. Giselle followed the fairy tale back through the wishing well. The ending was everything she thought it would be. 2. Perfection's not all it's cracked up to be. 3. What was it like - becoming real? 4. She misses them, even if she doesn't know why. R&R.
1. Chapter 1

The well has almost completely dried up now. Even if she wanted to go back, it would be impossible. Not that she does. Edward would be devastated if she left him.

Except, sometimes, she wonders if he would be, really. Sometimes, it feels as if any princess would do, as if Happily Ever After was set in stone, and all it needed was the characters.

When she thinks about it, she almost feels (what was it, that word…oh yes --) anger, except it fizzles and dies as quickly as it comes. Anger isn't allowed here and neither are any other negative emotions. Giselle almost misses Narissa, because at least she gave variety to this life. But she's gone, good triumphing over evil once more, and she's a princess living the fairytale. It could be worse, so much worse (and she's heard stories, of princesses trapped in towers, girls forced to labor under wicked stepmothers, but she can't quite remember where she heard them because nothing of the sort has ever happened _here_) and she should be grateful. She has her prince and her kingdom, which is all she used to want, all that she can allow herself to want now. The well is dried up, she waited too long, and she'd almost feel regret, if she could, but that's just another negative emotion.

She loves Edward, she has her dream life, and she's happy. If none of that is quite true, well, it's not quite false either.

Giselle smiles brightly enough to bring tears to her eyes. She's living Happily Ever After, a life of half truths and almosts. She thinks she'd cry, except happy is a prerequisite of Ever After. She laughs instead, singing as beautifully as any caged songbird.


	2. Chapter 2

Giselle has a new bruise every week now. Robert teases her about being klutzy and tripping over her own feet, but she's not, really. It's just, she's only lived in this world for a few years, but she grew up in Andulasia, which didn't have potholes or concrete, and she was never anything but graceful there, a grace she'd taken for granted. It's different here.

Here, her ankles wobble in high heels, she has an embarrassing habit of walking into doors (in Andulasia, the doors were wide and stately, and, she privately thinks, much prettier), and her voice has a horrible tendency to crack when she sings.

The change was gradual in the beginning. Giselle remembers the first morning she woke up with frizzy hair. It was just – _everywhere_, and looked absolutely awful. She had never looked less than beautiful before. This, however, was _nothing_ compared to her first pimple. She hadn't left the bathroom at all that day.

She only complained about it once. Robert had looked at her and asked, very quietly, if she regretted staying with him. And really, this self doubt and over thinking of simple issues was definitely one of the more annoying habits of reality.

Because yes, she is graceful and beautiful and perfect in Andulasia, but Andulasia doesn't have Robert or Morgan or even scalding hot coffee, which is a steadily growing addiction to her.

And perfection's always been overrated anyway.


	3. Chapter 3

Morgan had asked her once what it had been like, changing from her fairytale to reality. Becoming real was how she phrased it, but Robert had interrupted and said Giselle had always been real, just different. Whereupon, Morgan nodded sagely and remarked that 'Daddy had said Giselle was a seriously confused woman when we met, so I guess it was confusing, right?' and Robert had sputtered out a denial, the conversation degenerating from there.

But it made her think about it, about how it felt going from one world to another. It hadn't hurt, not exactly. The light (sunlight, she knew now, and lifted her face towards it, comforted by the warm rays, but at the time it had been harsh and bright and unknown) had pierced her skin, causing sharp tingles up and down her body. It didn't hurt, but everything suddenly became so much more _sensitive_. When she'd lifted her hand to the sewer covering, it had felt rougher and more textured than anything else she'd ever touched. The lines had left _imprints_ on her skin. Nothing had ever managed to make a lasting impression before.

The air was colder and, when she breathed in, it got caught in her throat. She'd shivered, and the hair on her arms stood up in response to the chill. Hair. On her _arms_. She'd run her finger back and forth over it, and the feel of fingers on skin, soft, vulnerable skin, had distracted her from it.

Everything was soft and blurred in Andulasia. She'd never been cold or hungry, and she'd _never_ had sensations like these before. This world had sharp edges you could cut yourself on, and the sight of her own blood was almost as captivating as the sharp, unpleasant feeling which caused her finger to throb. Pain, Robert told her it was called.

Her first year here, and even now on occasion, she'd run her hands over everything. Walking, she'd trail her fingers across a wall or through the grass. Even the rush of wind colliding with her hand was a new and glorious sensation.

Tastes were sweeter here and sourer here too. Everything just had so much more _impact_. These bodies weren't like her old one, impervious to everything, nothing leaving much of a mark.

So no, it hadn't hurt, coming here, (although, really, nothing had hurt before coming here, so she hadn't had much for comparison then) but it had been new and intense, amazing, and maybe a little uncomfortable. She thinks though, that if she were to go back, leave the real world for her fairytale and dream, that _that_ would hurt greatly.


	4. Chapter 4

Giselle thinks about them sometimes, Robert and Morgan. She wonders how they're doing, if Robert married Nancy, if they're happy. She wonders if they miss her.

She certainly misses them, although it's becoming harder to remember why. She knows they were close (they must've been), but the memories have become increasingly vague since she returned to Andulasia. Their faces are only blurs in her mind now, and the days she spent with them have run together.

She really should listen to Edward and stop thinking about her trip down the wishing well, and she would, she really would, except sometimes she hears Robert's voice in her head, and feels small fingers holding her hand trustingly. It's all that's really left now.

It's not that she wants to forget them; it's just, they don't belong here, not if she's going to live happily ever after. And it _is_ Happily Ever After. Edward is perfect, just as wonderful and loving as he ever was, the palace is beautiful, and ever since Queen Narissa left she's been able to have all her woodland friends come visit (truthfully, Giselle was relieved Narissa was gone. The woman had never seemed to like her.).

Giselle just can't understand what's wrong with her. There's no evil stepmother, wicked faeries have never made an appearance, and she's certainly not trapped in a tower. She's free to go wherever she wants.

So what if she's stopped dreaming. She's _living_ the dream. Her life is perfect. She lifts her voice in song, holding out her hands. And so what if the voice that answers isn't quite what she expects and the birds that alight on her palms feel nothing like a small girl's hand. Soon enough everything will settle back into place and she'll stop feeling so sad.

Soon enough, she won't even remember why she felt sad in the first place.


End file.
